Their numbers swelled, but in a strictly controlled manner. It was understood that if the brotherhood grew too much, they would draw attention. Some new members came from the Grafters’ own families, their potential identified while they were children. Outsiders were also enlisted, with talented scholars and scientists lured in by the promise of knowledge and (once sworn to secrecy) demonstrations of what was possible. Even as new Grafters were instructed in the science of the Broederschap, they were taught to hate and fear the monsters that lived in the British Isles.
Their work progressed. The Broederschap scholars believed in research and exploration, and while many devoted themselves to martial applications, there were just as many whose efforts were guided solely by their curiosity. Some sought to duplicate the abilities that the Gruwels had exhibited, and others simply worked to take their knowledge as far as it could go.
But even as Ernst and Gerd oversaw the rejuvenation of their brotherhood (and sisterhood; any thoughts of gender discrimination had been thrown out the window in 1554 after their greatest scholar had asserted there was no relevant difference between the male and female brains and had produced two brains as proof, offering to walk any doubters through the pertinent features — an offer hastily declined), they were carefully laying the groundwork for vengeance.
It would be more than two centuries before the Broederschap learned the true name of their enemy. Agents and money finally did their work and revealed the Brotherhood of the Checquy, an organization that coiled its way through the British government like a parasite. Another century and a half passed before the Grafters could place even a single agent in the enemy organization, and she was obliged to commit suicide just before she was discovered. The next agent took decades to penetrate the myriad of security checks surrounding the Checquy, but slowly, slowly, they gained more knowledge of their nemesis.
For Ernst and Gerd, it was simply a matter of patience. It might take centuries, but their revenge was inevitable, and their rage burned. For many of the other Grafters, however, those who did not seek or expect immortality, their hatred of the Checquy was abstract — still very real, but unconnected to their daily lives. That was how it was for Odette. She had known that one day, perhaps long after her death, the Broederschap would move against the Checquy. But she was not a soldier. Her purpose was to learn, to innovate. To create. She loathed the idea of the Gruwels, but they seemed very distant.
Distant, that is, up until a sunny morning a few months ago when Ernst had announced to the brotherhood that there had been a change of plans. Rather than wreaking their dire revenge upon the hated demons called the Checquy, the Grafters would be joining them as colleagues and allies.
Which brought Odette to the here and now, in the bottom of a hotel bathtub full of slime.
*1 Charles II of England was not Carlos II of Spain. Confusing one for the other would probably have earned you a backhanding from Charles and a bewildered stare from Carlos.
8
Trouble behind us. Trouble in front of us, Odette thought grimly. Staying at the bottom of the bathtub seems like much the best option.
Nonetheless, it didn’t seem a realistic course of action, not least because room service was unlikely to deliver breakfast to the bottom of a tub of muck. Odette pulled herself out of the mire and began to get ready for her day.
Forty-five minutes and a cosmetic pupil-dilation later, Odette was flatly wished good morning by the Checquy guard at the elevator as she and Alessio passed by.
“Oh, uh, good morning,” said Odette. Alessio walked a little faster until they had gone around a corner. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“I’m just creeped out. They’re everywhere.”
“Alessio, they’re security guards.”
“The difference between a security guard and a prison guard is one order from the boss,” said Alessio darkly. They came to the door of the royal suite. Two men were standing sentry outside. One was their cousin Frank, the other was a Checquy operative.
“You can go ahead,” said Frank. “The rest of the delegation is sort of trickling in.” Odette and Alessio exchanged raised eyebrows as they walked into a sitting room much larger and more opulent than the already impressive one they shared. I wonder how big the bathtub in this suite is, thought Odette idly.
A conference table was off to one side. Several members of the delegation were already seated there, reviewing documents. All of them were wearing suits and harried expressions. At the head of the table sat Graaf van Suchtlen, dipping a toast soldier into a soft-boiled egg and chortling over the latest edition of Private Eye. Odette walked over to him, Alessio trailing silently behind her. They stood wordlessly by the patriarch’s side until he acknowledged them.
“Ah, Odette and Alessio! Good morning,” he said cheerfully.
“Good morning, Grootvader,” they said, almost in unison.
“I trust you slept well, surrounded by the guards of our allies?” he said.
“Absolutely,” said Odette. Alessio smiled weakly.
“Alessio, you look very smart in your suit, but you won’t be needing it today.”
“Oh?” said Alessio warily.
“No, the Checquy have kindly made arrangements for you to be entertained. A group of students from their training facility —”
“The Estate,” added Odette helpfully.
“Yes, a group of students from the Estate are in London for a field trip to visit various musea and landmarks. You will be joining them.” Odette did not dare look at her brother, but she couldn’t hear him breathing, which was not a good sign since he needed to do that in order to live.
There was a fraught pause.
“Oh, Alessio, you’ll get to see London,” she said encouragingly. “That sounds like fun.” She nudged him.
“Yes. Such fun,” he said woodenly.
“However, in order to fit in with them, you will have to be wearing the school uniform. Frau Blümen, the headmistress of the Estate, has thoughtfully sent one in your size.” Van Suchtlen did not make any gesture, but his secretary Anabella, a plump older woman, immediately came over carrying a uniform on a hanger.
A blazer of lurid orange, lime green, and purple stripes burned Odette’s dilated pupils. There was a tie in the same horrendous colors, which was apparently worn over a white shirt. A pair of gray trousers appeared to be trying to hide themselves so as not to be associated with the blazer and tie.
“And, of course, the hat,” said Anabella, presenting a straw chapeau of the sort that Odette vaguely remembered was called a boater. It was adorned with a broad ribbon in the school colors.
“Well, that all looks very impressive,” said van Suchtlen in the cheerful tones of a man who did not have to wear it. Alessio reached out and took the suit as if it were made out of the scrota of war criminals. “Go and put it on so that we can all see how it looks.” Alessio tottered out of the suite, beaten down by the knowledge that he would be spending the day with the traditional enemies of his family while wearing a suit that might induce epilepsy in passersby.
“Grootvader, forgive me for asking, but will he be all right on this excursion?” Odette said.
“He’ll be fine. It will do him good to get out and spend more time with children his own age.”
“I meant, will he be safe with those people? Those children are already trained warriors. Are they going to know who he is?”
“They’ll know,” said van Suchtlen. “Their teachers will have advised them. Alessio is part of the negotiations. His presence is a sign of good faith on our side.”
So my baby brother will be a hostage, thought Odette. Terrific. But she knew better than to voice any complaint. Really, they were all hostages, but the Checquy, for all its unnaturalness, was a government agency and could be trusted to keep visiting dignitaries safe. Probably.